


When you say it like that

by allofspace



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofspace/pseuds/allofspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Gregson go to a bar and fluff ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When you say it like that

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for honeybearbee when we were both in need of some greglock <3

Tobias Gregson mostly considered himself a closed book. He was never one to show much emotion; it was a useful trait as a cop. He didn’t like to become attached to too many things. He had associates and coworkers, but not that many people he would consider friends. Sherlock Holmes had somehow made his way into some new classification Gregson wasn’t really ready to deal with.

Of course, first and foremost, he respected Sherlock a hell of a lot. He knew the man was brilliant and that sometimes genius like that came with some less-than-ideal character traits. He understood why Holmes turned to drugs, but he also wanted to help keep him off them. Sherlock was a friend, oddly enough, Gregson decided. A friend he kept a close eye on, not because he was suspicious, but just to make sure. Because he cared… a lot. It surprised him when he realized this one day.

After Sherlock came clean about his drug use, Gregson had been content that Sherlock had told him the truth and been so honest with him. He knew sharing things like that wasn’t a common occurrence with the man. But then he was also surprised at how much worry he had felt when Joan had come to him thinking he’d relapsed. Deep down he didn’t think Sherlock would have really done it, but really how well did he know the man? After that particular abduction scare, Gregson tried not to overanalyze his own feelings. He pushed them aside and thought he’d dealt with it rather well. Until one day, after a rather simple case, Sherlock waltzed into his office.

“Sherlock, can I help you?”

Sherlock didn’t answer right away and just wandered around Gregson’s office looking at plaques and pictures on the wall. Gregson looked up over the rim of his glasses then put his pen down, waiting patiently.

“Joan sent me,” Sherlock said. Holmes slowly made his way to a seat infront of Gregson’s desk with his hands in his pockets.

“May I ask why she sent you? There aren’t currently any cases we need help on…”

Sherlock interrupted his train of thought. “She seems to think I need to get out more,” he said nonchalantly.

Gregson still wasn’t sure how this resulted in Sherlock sitting across from his desk. “I don’t think Joan would consider coming to the police station as ‘getting out’ Holmes,” Gregson said wryly.

“Well actually,” Sherlock sighed. “It may have been more of a command to have more friends. She says I need a support system for when she leaves, and that friends help. And well to be honest, you are one of the only people that can keep up with me intellectually, and I know your shift ends in 5 minutes,” he concluded matter-of-factly.

Gregson couldn’t help but smile a little. It was a bit amusing to see Sherlock ramble on, and also to see the power Joan held over Sherlock. He wondered how she snaked him into this. Gregson just nodded in silent agreement as he put away some folders and grabbed his coat. He walked over to the office door and looked toward Sherlock who was still sitting on the chair, seemingly zoned out.

“Coming?”

“Oh,” said Sherlock immediately jumping up. “Of course. Off we go then.”

20 minutes later, Gregson found himself nursing a pint across a table from Sherlock Holmes in a fairly empty bar. At first they discussed some cases, which lead to discussions of Sherlock’s old work in London. Gregson asked about Lestrade, who he’d worked with once or twice back in the day. When Gregson was much looser from the alcohol, they sat in companionable silence as a football game played on the television. As the waiter left after bringing wings and nachos to the table, Sherlock spoke again. If Gregson had taken a bite two seconds sooner, he’d probably be choking, but luckily the food hadn’t made it to his mouth.

“What did you say?” He asked Sherlock, because he surely hadn’t heard right.

“You… have feelings for me. Of sorts,” Sherlock shrugged.

Gregson stammered a bit as he tried to come up with some sort of denial. He didn’t exactly hate the man, but he also hadn’t really worked out just how far his fondness reached. He’d sort of pushed it aside these last few weeks.

“Am I wrong? Do remember I am an expert in reading body language. Don’t make me point out all the signs.”

“Um, alright,” Gregson conceded, not sure where else to go with the conversation now.

“As much as I think the concept of dating is a waste of time and energy for me, I wouldn’t terribly mind spending a tiny bit of extra time in your company,” Sherlock said as though this was just an average conversation you would have with a friend.

“Wow thanks, when you say it like that…”

Sherlock rolled his eyes with slight exasperation and reached out an arm to grab Gregson’s tie. He pulled him and leaned forward across the table himself. Their lips smashed together hard and Gregson was stunned with shock. He had no idea if this was what he even wanted, and he had no idea what Sherlock was thinking. But the kiss became softer, and Sherlock’s lips more pliable and Gregson began to move his own against them. Sherlock sucked on Gregson’s bottom lip then released the tie and fell backward into the booth seat again.

Gregson cleared his throat and flattened his tie with his palm as he sat back as well.

“I usually just sleep with women whom I know nothing about to get my sexual urges out of the way, but I may possibly feel a stronger connection to you than I like to acknowledge. I’ve never liked the science of emotions, but it seems as though ignoring them will not, in fact, make them go away.” Sherlock seemed to be talking out loud to no one in particular, but the words made Gregson’s eyes widen.

“Wow, okay. Look Sherlock, we should probably take this a bit slow,” Gregson scratched the back of his head. “Want to finish watching the game somewhere else?”

“Brilliant idea. Wouldn’t want to risk waking Joan at my apartment though, so better yours.”

“Sure alright,” Gregson said as he left some cash on the table to cover their food and lead Sherlock out the door.

Gregson’s apartment was small and unimpressive. A cop’s salary plus no real desire for anything showy left the apartment dull and mostly bare. There was a couch and a fairly nice TV, though. After a very small tour of the apartment, they ended up sitting on the couch watching the game. They spoke quietly about a lot of things, and nothing at the same time. Gregson had always thought Sherlock’s mind was an interesting place. He asked Sherlock about some of his tattoos; what they meant, why he got them. He traced timid fingers along the lines of ink and if Sherlock smiled at the touches, he could just blame it on the alcohol.

By the time the game was over and the sports highlights were being shown, Sherlock was sat in the corner of the couch. One arm ran along the top of the couch and his shoulder cradled Gregson’s head. He had fallen asleep at some point and although Sherlock wasn’t usually one for sentiment, it made him feel calm. It made him feel safe and oddly cared for and it confused him. He supposed a therapist would say his emotional distancing would have something to do with father issues and his being a sociopath, but he found some comfort here. So he didn’t wake Gregson and didn’t risk moving any muscles to change the channel. In his mind he took in every detail he could about the apartment, and Gregson, while also calculating odds and statistics that had to do with the sports in the background. It might not be the most stimulating for his mind or body, but he felt content and he was okay with that.


End file.
